


The Desires of the Flesh

by Nelja-in-English (Nelja)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: A Leitner Made Them Do It (The Magnus Archives), Angst, Bittersweet, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Dubious Consent, M/M, Mutual Pining, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27710864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelja/pseuds/Nelja-in-English
Summary: Martin investigates Leitner books. Jon finds him at the worst moment.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 18
Kudos: 69
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2020





	The Desires of the Flesh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reine_des_corbeaux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reine_des_corbeaux/gifts).



At one point Martin gets desperate for answers about how the Extinction might actually emerge - it would require making Peter talk, for once. So he decides that he might as well do some research, even if it's far-fetched, nebulous, or even dangerous.

Right now, he's investigating what happened last time a new Power ascended. The Flesh had emerged a bit before Smirke had started his classification, Jon said. It was only a casual comment, after he came back from America, but Martin remembers almost everything Jon has ever said. Jon's voice can carve anything into his brain and heart. Even now, through the fog, he remembers.

The oldest Flesh statement he investigated when he was working at the Archive was the one about the Oregon Trail, in 1845. It was a fully established Power at this point, with avatars. When did Smirke start his classification? The very beginning of the 19th century. It doesn't give Martin a really precise idea of the situation.

There are three options. He could explain to Peter what he needs and risk his condescending agreement in principle, only to wait forever for him to take any action, because clearly, he wants to control what information Martin gets as much as he can. Martin could also go into the Archives himself, except Jon would probably feel him. Jon would try and talk to him. Martin would burn from the inside, or maybe he can no longer distinguish devastating fire from warmth, all frozen as he is now, in a sanctuary that's also a trap.

So it's the last option, for now at least. And Martin heads towards Artefact Storage.

He's not sure whether he's really invisible these days, or whether it's Peter's more mundane power that makes no one want to question why he's here. Does it matter? But he has access to the hidden lists and the keys that open the case for the other keys, and the most dangerous artefacts here, the ones that have killed and want to kill again.

Long ago, like every employee at the Magnus Institute who didn't work in Artefact Storage, he looked at the catalogue with a mix of dread, fascination, and compassion for everyone who actually has to work here. It was full of mysteries, and maybe even wonders, when Martin believed evidence of the supernatural could be a good thing.

How naive he was. Now all the magic is gone, all the dark poetry. All he can see is the list of which dread Power wanted to mess with the world this week. Desolation, Spiral, Web (he remembers finding the spider artefacts vaguely cute, once), Eye (he thinks about Jon, why does he think about Jon when the whole place is a temple to the Eye), Spiral again, Flesh but a recent one, Lonely (he shivers - maybe some magic is still here, but the worst kind)...

Finally, there are two artefacts in the catalogue that might be early Flesh. But Martin would have preferred something else, because both are books with Leitner's bookplate on it.

At least they're not the highest security level as Leitner books go. They won't kill you or make you a monster on sight. Probably. The descriptions are sporadic but seem to have been made by employees who stayed alive after making them. Martin checks the dates, to be sure. They are dead now, too young, and he shivers, but it seems like accidents related to other artefacts.

So maybe, just maybe, Martin can leave with his carefully wrapped in linen cloth copy of Frankenstein (a different version where the monster manages to breed) and of a religious book donated recently by a monastery, but dated to the end of the 18th century, Sins of the Flesh.

He quickly skims the first one. He's wary of every page, but he still wants to know. Fortunately, he has read the original book, which allows him to understand the fragments he lets himself look at.

It is about vanquishing death, and the horror of it. It starts as the End and ends as the Flesh. It's as clearly an emergence book as Martin can imagine one, as mixed as all the Extinction statements Peter found for him are. And it still gives him nothing.

 _Let's not touch any books we don’t know_ , Jon told him, a few weeks before the Unknowing. The world was ending, and it says something about Martin that his hope never burned as bright as then. The way Jon was looking at him, almost fond – it went close to break his wall of resignation. And of course, just after, he lost him.

Martin thinks about Jon so much these days. Peter even encourages this. As long as they don't talk. As long as he sees Jon this way – something lost, like a last hope.

He opens the second Leitner book, which is even older, older than Smirke's classification and maybe older than any Flesh avatar, and cautiously starts to read.

He wonders if there are already Extinction Leitners out there. Once again, he wonders how these books manifest, if they are written, or appear from thin air.

He had imagined medieval illuminations, but of course it's not from the Middle Ages at all, and the old, fragile book is all printed text. 

It's... quite less saucy than he imagined, given the title. It alternates between haughty homilies quoting the Bible a lot ( _And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell. And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell._ ) and anatomical studies. They are all about how awful human flesh is, designed to make people sin, trying to reduce them to the level of base animals, devoid of free will because they're only Flesh.

It kind of feels like porn, though. As Martin closes the book, he realizes how aroused he is. And it's definitely not his natural proclivities to masturbate about monks having... whatever kind of fun they have. The book is really abstract. The throbbing of his cock is not. His hand already slipping down his trousers... It's how it works, really. Making you think it's not your decision, it's your body's. Martin manages to fight it, mostly out of pride.

Maybe an indulgence for later, once all of this is solved, if it doesn't go away.

He will stop looking at it, then, even if he's still not sure if there's another Power than Flesh here. He wraps the books again and goes back to Artefact Storage.

"Martin, please..."

Jon's voice takes him by surprise, at the worst moment. Or maybe every moment is the worst one. No, this is the worst. 

Martin always feels like talking to Jon will shatter the veil of ice he wrapped himself into, will tear and burn and leave him just a... just an archival assistant, made to follow and love and serve Jon, and not do anything by himself. 

But he doesn't always carry books he shouldn't while hiding his erection under a sweater tied around his waist.

"I really don't have the time now, Jon," he answers. Why did he say his name? Just this is too much of a connection, makes his heart want to jump from his chest into Jon's hands, makes his mouth water, his saliva wants to be spread over all of Jon's body, his hands want to hover, his fingers to touch, and never to let go...

Oh, no, this book is worse than he thought.

"I'm _really_ busy," he says coldly, and starts to walk faster, almost running, just at the moment when Jon takes a step to block him. They collide hard. Jon falls on his behind. One of the books also falls, opens, like the wrapping failed at the worst moment...

It's one of the anatomical plates. Once again, Martin is almost surprised there's nothing openly sexual about it, even with his luck. It's a cross-section of a brain that seems covered in thick spider webs. Martin can follow Jon's eyes as they fixate upon the picture, the words, _the arachnoid is a thin membrane of the brain and spinal cord that lies between the dura mater and the pia mater_ , explaining how this meninge is controlling human impulses...

Now Martin knows which Power he felt in addition to the Flesh.

And Jon knows it too.

"What's _this_ , Martin?" he asks, snatching the book from the ground. There's venom in his voice, and it makes Martin feel too many things he should be immune against now, guilt, pain, nostalgia even.

"It needs to go back to artefact storage!" Martin answers, probably avoiding the question but in this situation he's not sure it's a useful question anyway. " _Close it_."

Jon does; it looks like it's taking a huge effort of willpower. Maybe it's the Eye, being curious in his stead. Maybe it's the Web, wanting to make him read more. Martin remembers Jon is terrified of spiders.

Martin’s lips want to kiss him, his forehead, his eyes, to make him feel better. His arms can only form the shape of Jon's body, whether he holds him or not. He can feel his own heartbeat, too fast, in his aching cock.

Jon starts to get up again, and as his book is still in his hand, he clings to Martin's leg. Martin's reaction is immediate, and he can't physically get harder, so he isn't sure what happens to his cock, what makes it twitch in delightful need.

And then Jon nuzzles Martin's cock, still on his knees, and Martin goes mad.

"Stop this," he asks. "It's the Leitner making you act." But at the same time he grabs Jon's hair, and it isto put his head away, and he doesn’t. Is it the book too? Or is he too weak? Jon moans, and the sound makes Martin's legs tremble. Oh, the physical proximity alone would hurt his body and his spirit, but this, this is the pain of pure need being filled too fast, too wrong, of a huge wave hurling into an infinite hole.

Martin is crying. He realizes it now, he doesn't know when it started.

"Yes..." Jon pants. "Yes it's the Leitner." The book has fallen on the floor again, and Jon's face is now fully buried in Martin's crotch, caressing him through too many layers of clothes. "I need this. Please. I will die if you don't let me."

Martin doesn't know if it's true. He wants to believe it, because he knows now that he won't stop Jon. He'd like to pretend to himself it's for his sake. It's not. It's because he's weak and his body is controlling him, the pleasure of Jon mouthing at his cock a drug he can't go without.

Anyone could come and see them now. Martin is very aware of it, aware of the implications of it even, but no amount of shame will make him move, will make him pull Jon away by his hair, make him stop.

He comes so hard, and it's glorious, pleasure from all his veins, from all his bones, from all his muscles, from the tiny hairs on his skin, running through his body, spurting on his cock.

But after he can think and feel again, he realizes it doesn't even lessen the need, because he still has a mouth and arms and a neck and none of them has touched Jon enough. Their bodies can't separate yet. Jon knows this, because he's almost crawling against Martin's body as he's getting up, leaving saliva marks on his shirt, biting a bit. Finally, he's tilting his head up, grabbing Martin's hair, and they're kissing. It's desperate and hungry and real - Martin feels like they're slowly eating each other. Some part of them is lost. At one point, Martin felt he could stop, just allowed himself an indulgence. It has been taken from him, now, eaten by Jon's soft lips and the sharp mandibles of the Web and the pink stomach of the Flesh.

He needs to remove their clothes. He barely manages to remember they're in a public place. There's a break room near – also a public place, but more hidden...

"Come with me," he says, one the kiss breaks, but Jon is softly biting at his neck, while opening his shirt and rubbing himself against his thigh. Martin has to use the relative lucidity that his orgasm gave him to grab him by the thighs and carry him to the break room, mercifully empty. Martin hopes it was. He fears that the strength of his lust might have sent everyone else into the Lonely right now.

As he's walking to the sofa, his hands are kneading Jon's thighs and ass, and he feels once again that he needs to remove these clothes, that they're only stopping them from actually touching. His fingers tighten – and then Jon's trousers rip, and Martin can't feel sorry about it, not when it allows him to slide a hand under Jon's underwear, to massage his asshole. The keening noise Jon makes then enters his ears like a siren's song. 

They fall on the sofa, Martin's body all over Jon's, and it still isn't enough, they need to remove their clothes, to touch and lick and kiss everywhere, and twist in one another's embrace. Jon manages to come from friction in a very short time, and then he's the one taking his sweet revenge, licking at Martin's asshole for a long, torturous time, his fingers brushing on his hard cock just too softly, before fucking him...

Martin shouldn't enjoy this so much. Jon would never have done any of this if he was not under the influence, and even if Martin thinks he would have ran away if he hadn't read the book too, even if he can't resist, it doesn't mean he's allowed to love it. But when Jon's body is rubbing against his like this, he can forget that it's wrong, he can forget everything about his life and just feel and cry.

Jon’s cock is everything Martin even hoped for, and when he thrusts into him, his long hair tickles his neck. The scars on his skin are art in front of Martin’s eyes. Jon’s hands are wiry and grip him so tightly, never letting him go.

Maybe it will never, ever stop.

And really, it doesn't. But what feels like heaven can never last, especially when it comes from fear and horror. At one point, Martin feels that the needs of his body become more and more intense, the orgasms less and less satisfying. All that they can do, in every position, brings no longer ecstasy, barely pleasure, only a necessary relief on his raw, sensitive skin, tasteless food when you're hungry. And still, because it becomes less and less good, Martin needs even more of it, fucks harder, without thinking. How is it possible when it's Jon doing this to him?

How long since he thought about him as Jon, and not as some skin and hands and cock touching him, entering him, soaking him? Why are they not talking? Of course they don't, because they both know the only conversation possible should be that it's wrong, that they should stop, and it won't make them...

"I love you!" Martin says. He's so close to Jon, why does it feel like he's calling from very far away, in empty rooms, hoping an echo will find him? He felt this for so long, it was woven under his skin, why does it feel like he had to make an effort to say it? "Jon, please, talk to me!"

Jon moans under him, but it isn't really an answer, isn't it? Martin can see his lips move, though, but he can't listen to the sounds, because he only hears obscene moans, saliva bubbling, waiting to wet Martin's skin. And Martin wants it too, wants Jon's hot mouth around his cock, and why wouldn't he take it?

It's not like he could stop moving against him, it's not like he could be heard, so what are the alternatives?

But his heart still hurts, he can't stay like this. He can't bear the idea of some dark magic gnawing at his feelings, digesting them, making them mindless lust without joy. 

(Also, what is it doing to Jon's feelings? Even if he could bear his heart being soiled, he can't bear what he's doing to Jon. Oh, what a hypocrite he is, he didn't mind when it threw him into his arms. But some feelings are hypocritical, twisted, and still sincere.)

The initial book talked about cutting out body parts, but Martin is quite sure you can’t appease the Flesh this way, only spark it more. But he has another option. So once more, Martin makes the choice he regretted so much the first time. He won't stay with Jon, because he loves him too much. He feels so alone right now, even with burning skin against shivering flesh, it's not hard to disappear. He has strength right now. I love him more than I want to be with him, is there a more lonely feeling? It's painful, yes, and he feels turned inside out as an empty pocket, and the cold of the Lonely bites his skin like a friend, restrains him, a prison that frees him of all the others.

Jon can no longer see him. He can barely see Jon in the fog. He can hear his muffled voice again, though.

"Martin. Martin, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I should have controlled myself. I just wanted you back! I'm not angry, not at you. Come back, please!"

Did he try to talk to Martin all along? Was Martin unable to listen to him?

It hurts, listening to this, but it's a familiar, quiet pain. At least, Jon can't see him leave. His eyes can't bore into his back, like harpoons reminding him whom he belongs to.

He thinks he hears _I love you_ , whispered or screamed. It's all the same for him. He can't act on it, he can't even believe it. 

Martin sends Sonja a text about books being removed from Artefact Storage and ending up in the break room. He doesn't want to get close to them again. Whatever answers they hide, they're not the ones he's looking for.

And he thinks about what he had of Jon today, what he had dreamt of for years, and wonders what else can turn into ashes in his hands.


End file.
